


Strawberries & Cigarettes

by mansklig



Series: Yearning of Aching Hearts [1]
Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Desus - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Group Homes, Jaryl - Freeform, M/M, darus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 06:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17299382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansklig/pseuds/mansklig
Summary: "Blue eyes, black jeanslighters & candyI've been a fool, for strawberries & cigarettes"





	Strawberries & Cigarettes

When Paul was moved to a new group home for the second time in one year, he didn't think anything good was going to come out of it.  

What good ever came from starting all over again, anyway?

His first few days at the new town were awful, all the way from meeting the guy responsible for their group home, _Gregory_ , to discovering that he was sharing a room with four not very hygienic teenage boys, to missing dinner because of napping at the wrong time and then missing breakfast because he woke up late for school.  

They apparently had a very strict meal schedule.

His first week of school wasn't much better, everyone knew each other and he sticked out like a sore thumb, the new boy who showed up at the middle of the school year.

And it wasn't like he wasn't used to it, because he was. That, however, didn't make it suck any less.

The first person who approached him was a pretty girl with short brown hair and a contagious smile. Her name was Maggie, and they shared a couple of classes together.

Paul has noticed her before, he's often seen her walk with an Asian boy who's asked him for a pencil that he never returned.

They talked for a while as Paul exchanged his books from the locker, and conversation wasn't so hard with her. It ended with her asking him if he wanted to join her and her friends for lunch.

He obviously accepted.

Things started to get better for him after that, apart from his life at the group home.

He absolutely hated his roommates, they were loud and messy and obnoxious, and Paul was a quite boy who just wanted to listen to his music peacefully.

They also made fun of his hair a lot. And he didn't care much at first, until the jokes became too hostile.

He'll never forget how he felt when Gareth pushed him to the corner, puffing his chest and calling him names that stopped upsetting him a long time ago.

It ended with a fight Gregory had to abolish himself, and Paul had a busted lip; but Gareth's balls were probably going to hurt like a bitch for a while, and he may have stolen his ability to reproduce.

He then told himself he was cutting it off to save himself the trouble, that he was being rational and mature for himself, even if some part of him laughed at the lies.

He also told himself that no one would notice the difference; apart from Maggie and Glenn, so when the quiet guy from his history class asked him why he cut his hair, Paul was a little perplexed.

"Huh?" He replied, his eyes scanning the empty room, to make sure the words were directed towards him.

"Your hair, why'd ya cut it?"

"Uh- change, i guess." Paul said. The look he was given made him feel see-through, and their short conversation ended there.

•

Paul then learned the boy's name was Daryl Dixon, and he never stopped noticing him after that.

He asked Maggie about him, maybe a bit too many times, and learned quite more than he expected. Not the best reputation the boy had, evidently.

He didn't ask Maggie about him ever again, not after she caught him staring at Daryl during lunchtime; and he didn't know if her strong intuition already had him figured out, but he'd rather believe it didn't.

•

His second conversation with Daryl Dixon was on a day that has gone horribly for him.

He was at a party that's a half an hour drive from the group home, and it was an hour past curfew.

He didn't know what exactly happened if he broke curfew, but he wasn't on the best terms with Gregory to figure the answer to that question.

Maggie has drank too much from the cheap alcohol served in red plastic cups to even move, and Glenn wasn't anywhere to be found.

Paul rolled his eyes as her promise of how 'they'd be back before ten' echoed in his head. He dragged the half passed out girl into her father's truck, or at least tried to.

"Maggie- Goddamit Mags come on help me out here!" He mumbled as he tried to make her step on the car door's sill.

"Need some help?"

He groaned a loud yes, not recognizing the voice at first but grateful for the offer of help he wasn't awaiting.

Daryl was the last person he expected, not for any specific reason, other than the fact that Maggie spat a lot of shit about him when Paul asked.

And its not like Paul judged him for it, he wasn't one to believe what people said, even if said people were his friends.

And that wasn't because he didn't believe Maggie, or anything like that, he just felt like the girl tended to get a little too caught up in the gossip.

"Ya know how to drive that?" Daryl asked, as he nodded his head towards the big truck; and pulled Paul away from his inner conflicts.

"No- not really. Maggie drove us here.. She wasn't supposed to get this drunk." Paul said, rubbing his ear bashfully; as if not knowing how to drive was something to be embarrassed about.

Maybe it was, or maybe it wasn't and he just wanted to impress Daryl.

"Where's her chinaman?" Daryl asked, and it took Paul a second to figure out that he meant Glenn.

"He's Korean." Paul said, and Daryl was surprised by the look of offense that painted the shorter boy's features.

"And i don't know where he is, i really need to leave but i can't drive this and i don't have any money for a cab. Shouldn't have come in the first place." Paul mumbled the last part to himself, before rubbing his hand on his face and sighing.

The stressed furrowing of his brows almost made Daryl smile, and he unfolded his palm for the keys;

"Chill, it ain't the end of the world. Ya got them keys?"

"You can't crash it, her dad would kill her." Paul said, as he nervously handed Daryl the keys.

Their fingers brushed, and the eye contact following Paul's warning was broken by Daryl snorting,

"Ya can totally suit yourself and find someone else to give ya a ride." Daryl said, but he has already opened the truck's door.

They were silent as Daryl drove them to Maggie's house, where Paul walked her to the door and passed the keys back to a disappointed looking Hershel.

Paul was surprised when he found Daryl waiting for him outside Maggie's house.

"Uh- my place isn't very far from here, i'll walk." Paul said, and a small smile shaped his lips.

"A car would've been faster, especially since ya seemed in such a rush." Daryl said, back resting against the large fencing of the family's farm.

"I don't mind, ten minutes won't make much of a difference, its already past curfew for me." Part of him wanted to stand there and keep talking to Daryl, if that's what they were doing; another part wanted to start jogging to the home.

He went with the first, deciding that a couple of minutes won't make much of a difference anyway.

They don't end up talking for a couple of minutes.

"So, your parents okay with you staying out late?" Paul asked casually, it was a question he knew the answer to, or at least thought he did; but he was trying to initiate conversation from whatever he had.

Daryl didn't instantly answer him, and the look he gave him makes him feel like an open book that was being read, that was being analyzed and dissected to the smallest word.

He internally scolded himself for asking about something that Maggie has _obviously_ told him about, but was surprised when Daryl played along.

"Nah, they ain't. My mama especially, she's probably sittin' and worryin'. Poor woman. Later."

Paul opened his mouth to say something that would have probably sounded like an apology, but Daryl had already turned and started walking in the opposite direction.

•

Paul didn't think he'd get the chance, or balls, to talk to Daryl again. Not necessarily because he was embarrassed, but more because he felt like a jerk for asking a question he knew would hit a nerve.

And then life went on; despite his unrevealed little crush towards the broken boy, whether to himself or to Daryl.

Maggie however wasn't very naive when it came to such topics, Paul sometimes wondered if these things were _all_ she thought about, surprising him one day with the sudden question of if he liked Daryl the way she thought he did.

Paul has obviously denied, and kept denying even after she backed down with a suppressed snort.

It felt like a fight or flight moment.

"That's horrible, why would you think that? I am not like that." Paul has said, redness coating his cheeks as adrenaline filled his senses.

"You're not like that, as in you don't like Daryl? Or as in you're not gay?" Maggie asked, as she flopped through the pages of a book that was spread on her bed.

"We're supposed to be studying."

"Oh come on Paul, you know i won't care! About the gay part, obviously. Not so sure about Daryl." She giggled the last part, and Paul felt sick at the way she was poking the confession out of him.

He packed his books and left in a hurry.

And then he ran until he couldn't feel his lungs, until his eyes stung and his stomach refused to keep the food any longer.

He called her after his little panic attack, when he was laying on his bed after a long shower, and apologized for leaving like that.

She replied with an equally sincere apology of how she didn't mean to make him uncomfortable, and they never spoke about it again.

She, however, didn't stop smirking at him whenever Daryl was somewhere near. And Paul found that he didn't mind it very much.

It's not like Daryl and him talked anyway.

•

And then that changed, quicker than he expected too.

His third conversation with Daryl was on a day that has, ironically, gone horrible for Daryl himself.

It was half past three when Paul left the school's building, having to spend some time in the library for a biology research he had to submit the next day.

He wanted to walk in the other direction when Daryl's frame came into view, but they've made eye contact and that would've been rude.

Paul didn't want to come off as rude, not more than he already has, so he kept walking, eventually stopping right where the taller boy was smoking a cigarette.

"Smoking causes more deaths than HIV, drugs, alcohol, car accidents, and firearm accidents all combined." Paul said, with more confidence than he anticipated.

"Good."

"Not really; also, if i were you, i'd choose somewhere else to do it, i don't think the principle would appreciate a student smoking in front of the school's building."

"Ya? Well guess what, fuck the principle, and fuck you too."

Paul shifted uncomfortably at the lack of replies to such a statement, and at the feeling that Daryl wanted him to leave.

"What're ya doin' here till now anyway? Lockin' the fucking school?"

"Library, Mrs.Smith asked us for a research about unhealthy practices of today's youth."

"Huh, hence your little lecture of how smokin' s'bad for you?"

Paul rubbed his ear at that, chuckled nervously then nodded his head.

"You?" When Daryl gave him a questioning look, Paul explained further,

"I mean, why are you still here? You don't strike me as a library guy."

Paul immediately regretted his choice of words, figuring that Daryl was a guy who took offense very quickly.  

"We doin' stereotypes now? And what the fuck does a 'library guy' even look like?"

"Oh I didn't mean it in a b-"

"You meant that i don't look like someone who'd spend their day in a library."

"Yeah- not like that's a bad thing. And i could obviously be wrong. Just, uh, crossed my mind. I guess."

Daryl internally punched himself for finding the rambling a little adorable.

"Principle called my dad cause of a... Some misunderstanding between me and Mr. Randall; son of a nutcracker that teaches Calculus. Not in the mood to deal with the aftermath."

Paul suspects that 'misunderstanding' is an understatement, but he doesn't voice his thoughts.

"Oh.. that sucks."

He then adds quickly, to stop himself from thinking about it too much,

"I'd invite you to my place, but I live in a group home where I have to share a room with 4 assholes. Pretty sure you'd prefer dealing with your 'aftermath'."

Part of Daryl is surprised at the revelation, the other part is.. comforted. It was like undeclared assurance from Paul, like he meant to say that the earlier judgement was unintentional and that he wasn't any better than him. 

"Group home, huh? Ya don't strike me as a 'group home' kid." Daryl said wryly, mocking Paul's earlier statement.

"What do I strike you as?"

The heat that crawls to Daryl's ears make Paul more aware of how flirtatious he sounded.

"Don' know. For a kid who grew up in the system; not such a .. fuck up."

_and too fucking pretty_

He didn't voice the second thought; fumbling for a second cigarette instead.

"Do ya like the town, since you're new n'all?" Daryl asked, before he took a puff and blew it away from the shorter boy's face.

And then the conversation kept going, and they eventually started walking as Paul expressed his dislike toward's the small town; talking about how he preferred bigger places where he didn't recognize the faces he saw everyday.

They found themselves in-front of Paul's place quicker than any of them would like.

•

During the few weeks of interacting together, Daryl discovered that he's never been able to speak a word without feeling judged, so what the fuck caused the lack of distress he felt when speaking to Paul? It worried him, made him anxious, yet at the same time made him want to thaw into liquid, made him want to ease up and relax, take things easy; and the only question running through his brain was _what in the lord's name was he doing to him?_

Paul, on the other hand, never really felt secure. It wasn't some sort of discovery, it was a fact, he's known it his whole life. He's never had a home, the constant movement in his life, the constant adjustment to new places and new people always left him rocky and uncertain. And though Daryl was a friend of few weeks, he made him feel like a warm blanket was swaddling him, and it scared yet excited the shit out of Paul. 

They found themselves spending more time together than the time they spend apart, their conversations becoming a source of solace;

and by the times they realized it, it was too late.

•

"Where are we going?" Paul asked, as he walked next to Daryl's side.

"Good lord, do ya have the least bit of patience?" 

"Its hot and we've been walking for eternity." 

"A twenty minute walk s'an eternity? We're almost there anyway." 

Paul followed Daryl into the trailer park they've reached. It was a remote area, and the tranquility of the place indicated that no one lived here; not anymore, at least. 

Daryl stopped in front of one of the rusty looking trailers, before he dived under the hitch shade and pulled what looked like a car cover to reveal a dusty motorbike. 

"Saved up some cash and pumped some gas into her. A beautiful 1991 Honda Nighthawk 750 with Vance & Hines exhaust. Wanna go for a ride?" Daryl asked, his eyes gleaming excitedly. 

"I have no idea what that meant but- _holy shit_ , is this yours?" 

"Hell nah, it's Merle's; my brother."

"He won't mind?" 

"He's in prison, what he don' know ain't gonna kill him."

Paul is surprised by the declaration, but he doesn't find it in him to wonder, or really care at all. He was hanging out with Daryl, why should he care about his imprisoned brother?

"Let's fucking go then!" Paul said, eagerness making his eyes look bigger; if that was even possible. 

"Watch your mouth sunshine." Daryl chuckled, as he tugged Paul closer to put a helmet on him. Paul's cheeks flushed at the nickname; and at the feeling of Daryl's fingers adjusting the strip near his chin.

"So, why am I the one who wears the helmet, aren't you the one driving?" Paul asked, as he climbed the bike, hands wrapping around the Daryl's waist coyly. 

"Don't want my ass sued for killin' ya if we crash, or to deal with Merle for breakin' his bike." Daryl replied, voice getting louder over the sound of the starting engine. 

"No one's gonna bother suing your ass; orphan, remember?" Paul said jokingly, tone a little bitter just enough for Daryl to catch it. 

"Guess I just don't want ya gettin' hurt then; hold on tight." 

Their bodies flushed together as the bike started running, fast and thrilling and exhilarating; and Paul prayed that Daryl didn't notice the way his heartbeat soared from the earlier comment. 

•

They had their first kiss at a lake Daryl knew of a long time ago, but only introduced Paul to when he was assured the boy was here to stay.

The sky was a beautiful shade of purple, and they were sitting close to each other, their shoulders brushing, after a quick swim in the water.

Paul initiated the kiss, because he was a hopeless romantic and the moment was far too perfect to not kiss Daryl.

The salty taste on Daryl's lips made his toes curl, and he wanted to freeze the moment to avoid dealing with the fallout.

But the first thing that Daryl muttered when they pulled apart was enough to calm Paul's racing heart.

"S'that... strawberries on your lips?"

"You don't like strawberries?" Paul mumbled, as a furious blush coated his cheeks.

Daryl took a minute to answer him, and it looked like he was thinking hard about the answer.

"Didn't particularly hold any feelin' toward em', but i'm pretty sure i'll start likin' 'em now."

Paul laughed loudly at that, and the sound was music to Daryl's ears.

And then they kissed again, and again, and by the time they left their secret place their lips were so swollen that not knowing what they were up to was impossible.

When they reached Paul's group home, and after excessively checking that no one was watching; Paul kissed the beauty mark next to Daryl's lips, because he's always wanted to do that.

They both went to sleep with happy thoughts, for the first time in a while.

•

When Paul saw Daryl's scars for the first time, it wasn't meant to happen.

Daryl's dad was out of town for a couple of nights, so they took the risk to spend the day in Daryl's house.

It was nothing better than the group home, but Daryl's room was clean enough and Paul was glad to have some seclusion with his boyfriend.

It was when Daryl came out of the shower and started rummaging through his few t-shirts that he noticed Paul's sudden silence.

He's gotten so comfortable around the boy that the imperfections littering his skin were the last thing on his mind.

Daryl's first instinct was to act like nothing happened, so he roughly pulled over the first shirt his fingers grabbed and started busying himself in tidying the room.

"D-did your dad do that?"

"Please don't make a big fuckin' deal of this, it ain't."

So Paul shut up, but Daryl didn't.

" _It was a long time ago_ , and it don't even hurt no longer."

"He didn't know how to deal with my Ma's death, _it ain't his fault_."

"And Merle and I were always a fuckin' handful, hell, _we still are_."

" _S'not like he can do it anymore_ , too drunk to move nowadays."

"And- and it ain't like he always did it, just did stupid shit sometimes, I mean, _if he didn't scare me I probably would'a dropped out a long time ago_."

"Not like i'm doin' so great, but its the thought that counts, ya know."

"Wouldn't have met ya if i dropped out, now that would'a sucked." He said jokingly, trying to lighten the suddenly one-sided conversation.

"Ya ain't.. disgusted, right?" Daryl muttered at last, gaze too vulnerable to meet Paul's.

"Of course not.. I'd never be, _god_ Daryl." Paul choked the words out, as he jumped off the bed to hug the other boy.

The cry that was tightening his throat made comforting Daryl harder, and then it was Daryl comforting him.

"Are y- Why the fuck are ya cryin' Paul-"

"I'm sor- I'm so sorry; you should be the one crying. I just- I'm just so- just sad you went through all that." He mumbled the words between embarrassing sniffs and broken laughs, as he roughly wiped the tears off his eyes.

"Hey.. s'fine. I'm alright, turned out just alright." Daryl said, his words soothing to Paul's ears, even if there were tears stinging his own eyes.

"You know- its not your fault, right? He's- he's an asshole- he's a fucking- a fucking psychopath and none of that is your fault. You're an amazing person and I know you were an amazing kid. He didn't- he doesn't deserve you. Not one fucking fingernail of yours he deserves. Okay?"

"I love you."

And then, very slowly, tears built up in Paul's eyes and he was crying again, because he's spent his whole life imagining what those three words felt like, and hearing them for the first time felt shattering.

 _Beautiful and shattering_ , and Daryl was there to hold him together, to watch him come apart and then help put him back together again.

And then Daryl listened to Paul whisper the same words back, warming both their worlds.

•

"I just think its.. cute."

"What's cute?"

"That as humans we'd just.. meet someone, and that we'd love them _so much_ that we start planning our future including them _in it_ , and changing our aims and goals and ideas just because we wanna be with this someone we love."

"You're a fuckin' sap."

"Oh come on! You know what I mean. Like what we're doing now. Making sure we'd find an apartment we can afford, thats close to the university and to the tech shop you wanna apply to. It's nice."

"Hmm.. It is."

•

Nice didn't last long.

Their first fight, and last, framed their earlier topic of discussion; the future.

"So what, you're just bailing out on me like that?" Paul had asked, his voice loud and angry and _hurt_.

_ so hurt _

"I ain't bailin' out on ya- He has liver cancer Paul, he's dyin'! Can't just leave 'em!"

"Who gives a fuck! He's an abusive asshole that's finally getting what he's deserved! I can't believe you're choosing him over-"

"I ain't! I ain't choosing him! I never can Paul, but he's my dad, and my Ma wouldn't have wanted him to die like this. All by his fucking self drinkin' himself to death!"

"No- she wouldn't have wanted him to control your life even when he was absolutely powerless. That's what you're letting him do."

"Virginia ain't far from here, I'll catch up with ya as soon as I can.. But not now, I just- I can't."

"Daryl please-"

"I can't! You need to understand Paul-"

"Don't let him guilt you into this, it's not your job to take care of him! You don't owe him shit!"

"Yes I do, he's my dad Paul! You wouldn't fuckin' get it even if i fuckin' explain!"

His last words hit a nerve, and Paul felt too thunderstruck to reply. He bit the inside of his cheek as he shakily nodded his head.

But he couldn't bring himself to leave Daryl's room. He couldn't bring himself to leave, to make this real.

_To lose Daryl_

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Fuck. I'm sorry Paul."

Daryl walked towards him uncertainly, before enclosing him into an embrace. Paul's hands instantly latched themselves onto Daryl's shirt, as Paul himself breathed in the scent he's gotten so used to.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing." Paul mumbled, slightly pulling away to meet Daryl's gaze.

"Nah, shouldn't have said that, didn't mean it to sound that way, either."

Daryl pushed his lips into Paul's before the later had the chance to reply.

The kiss wasn't as soft as all their other kisses, it was urgent, _desperate_ ; the fervor way Daryl's tongue slipped into Paul's mouth both surprised and excited him.

And then thread by thread, they came apart.

They made love for the first time that night, inexperienced hands roaming exhilarated bodies.

Daryl touched his skin as if he was to dissolve into thin air, so delicately, so carefully. His touches were gentle, fingers softly holding his skin to make sure that Paul was enjoying this as much as he was.

_And Paul enjoyed it_

He was a mess of whimpers and gasps as determined thrusts pushed him over the edge. His body felt like liquid, spurting and rushing at Daryl's hands.

"Daryl-" He panted, back arching from the overstimulation, as he felt his lover push back inside him.

Daryl's mouth moved over Paul's neck, spreading open mouthed kisses clumsily. Two cold fingers enclosed Paul's pink bud, and then his hands were moving abruptly to grasp onto something- anything, finding strong sturdy shoulders to engrave marks onto as an orgasm wrecked him.

White fluid painted their chests as they panted for breaths between lustful kisses and intoxicated gazes.

After long minutes of silence, Paul asked, curiosity getting the best of him,

"Did you do this before.. with anyone?"

"Nah." Daryl replied, his fingers moving to brush the growing locks off Paul's forehead.

"Flight is tomorrow."

"I know."

"Call me if you change your mind." Paul said, as he got up and started collecting his clothes.

The soreness he felt only made him want to sob more than he already did, as if a reminder of what he could've had with Daryl.

"I'll come, ya know." Daryl said, as he got up and pulled his own boxers to cover himself.

"You say that now, we don't know what can happen."

"I'm gon' come and s'gonna be just like we planned. Just a little off schedule. You get there and get settled, and then send me your new address. I'll be there 'fore you know it."

Their gazes met for seconds that felt like hours, and then Paul asked.

"You promise?" Paul mumbled, as he found himself seeking shelter in Daryl's embrace; for one last time.

"I promise."

•

Daryl breaks his promise, and they don't see each other again.

Not until the world ends and the dead start walking.

**Author's Note:**

> wanted to write a long ass high-school au but i suck at anything that isn't a oneshot so this came out  
> hope you liked it x


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